


war of hearts

by theoneinquisitor



Series: tumblr prompts [9]
Category: The 100 (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - College/University, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Enemies to Lovers, Tumblr Prompt, bellarke tension
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-03-28
Updated: 2018-03-28
Packaged: 2019-04-14 04:22:53
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,490
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14127966
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/theoneinquisitor/pseuds/theoneinquisitor
Summary: Bellamy and Clarke are notorious enemies. So naturally they make out. College drabble.





	war of hearts

**Author's Note:**

> prompt: staring at the other persons lips trying to give in (but giving in anyway).

“You’re a fucking prick, you know that?”

It’s taken Clarke what feels like hours to track him down at this stupid fraternity party, so when he turns around with a satisfied smirk on his face, she has to truly fight the urge to punch him in the face.

“How could I forget? You remind me every five minutes,” Bellamy takes a sip from his beer, seemingly content with his stupid ass prank.

When her phone beeps again, it takes every ounce of restraint not to launch it at his head. Just as she suspects, another text pops up on her screen featuring a very explicit picture.

“Jesus, how many people did you give it to?” she’s yelling, her cheeks flush in anger and frustration. He’s unbothered, having grown used to it over the years.

It’s a well known fact that she and Bellamy don’t get along. Ever since they arrived at university together, it’s been one grudge match after another. Hell, they didn’t even make it through lunch at Freshman orientation before they had to be separated because of their obnoxious debates over the most abstract things. They fought in History 102 about the historical accuracy of a movie they were watching, they were kicked out of Art History after he said something offensive (to her, at least) about an ancient painting, and this is not to mention the countless other pointless arguments they’ve gotten in (proper ways to make a grilled cheese, the dress is blue and not gold…). Needless to say, it’s been a tumultuous relationship.

“I’m a very wanted man, Princess,” he says smugly, reveling in the way her entire face seems to go red at the nickname. The crowd that’s begun to form around them (because their fights are always a spectacle) laughs.

When her phone beeps AGAIN, she doesn’t even bother to pull it out, “This is harassment, I hope you know.”

He shrugs before chugging the rest of his drink, “I need another one, how about you?”

As far as what she’s pulled together, Bellamy has managed to provide all his admirers with her phone number instead of his. It’s a smooth prank, it really is, but it’s also annoying as fuck. She’s received more come hither texts than she’d like, some of which have been unsolicited nudes. She’s no prude, she can appreciate the human anatomy. But not when she doesn’t ask for it. Plus, some of these people really need to work on their angles.

“This isn’t very Vice President like,” she follows him into the kitchen. He’s picking up bottles and sitting them down, seemingly indecisive about his next drink.

“Says the President who is currently attending a Frat party,” he counters and finally picks up what he was looking for. Fireball, of course.

Bellamy Blake has been a thorn her ass from the beginning, but the worst thing he’s ever done is run for Vice President of the Student Government association. It’s not that he isn’t good at it, she can admit that’s he’s pretty damn smart and savvy when it comes to strategy and the good of the Student body. But the only reason he even ran for the office is because she had been running for President. It was his way of getting back at her because she had really fucked up his senior year. Honestly, it wasn’t even that bad. Plus, she had help. Her friend Monty (who just so happened to be dating Bellamy’s best friend) helped her hack into Bellamy’s school account. He had signed up for a particularly prestigious History class, some seminar on Ancient Greece, and had been gushing about it at their recent counsel meeting. She dropped the class and instead added a Calculus class to his schedule. If there was anything she learned about him over the years, it’s that he doesn’t pay a whole lot of attention to detail. When he showed up on the first day and figured out what happened, the history class had been filled and he couldn’t get back in. Needless to say, he’s clearly still salty.

He slides a drink over to her and she meets his truce offering with a glare, “How many nudes am I going to get tonight?”

He laughs at that and pretends to think for a moment, “I don’t know, I’ve done quite a bit of flirting tonight.”

Flirting for him comes as naturally as breathing. All he has to do is smile and people fall at his knees. It’s no wonder he walks around with a god complex. Okay, she can admit, he’s attractive. He’s got the whole “hot intellectual” look going on. Muscle in the right places, unruly hair, and the glasses. Freckles pepper his tanned skin and his smile, well, his fucking smile.

“If I didn’t know any better, Princess, I’d say you were checking me out?”

Her cheeks flare all over again and she pops her hip out defiantly, “In your dreams, Blake.”

She feels a vibration in her pocket and pulls out her phone reluctantly, hoping maybe it’s just Raven letting her know she’s ready to go. No such luck. Instead she’s staring at a very unappealing dick pic and she’s just about had enough of the whole charade.

“Or maybe I was,” she says in the spot. He kinks an eyebrow in surprise.

She walks around the counter that separated him, and gives her best flirtatious smile, “I mean, don’t act like you aren’t into it.”

She doesn’t expect him to fall for it. It’s a cheesy charade and he knows her better than that. Yet his mouth opens slightly and she swears his eyes travel the length of her body, twice over.

“You know,” she’s practically purring now, something she didn’t even know she was capable of, “Maybe all of this has just bee a way for me to get you in bed.”

He scoffs and she realizes she’s gone overboard. Thinking as fast as she can, she runs her hand up his broad chest, admittedly impressed by it. He chokes on his drink. She leans closer to him, pushing her breasts into him and her lips graze his ear.

“Or maybe,” she whispers, “You’re way too easy.”

Her other hand, to his ignorance, is held just behind his head and with a sly smile, she pours the contents of her drink right on top of him. He yelps in surprise and she moves quickly away to avoid getting any on herself. The crowd in the kitchen comes to life, hooting and hollering over her bold move. Her victory doesn’t last long.

To her dismay, he simply runs a hand through his hair, pushing the newly wet curls from his face (and fuck, he looks hot), and smiles. It’s this moment, she knows she’s fucked. Suddenly, they’re launching drinks at each other and laughing hysterically as the whole kitchen erupts into launched cups and shouting college kids. She tries to run away but he’s too quick for her, catching her around the waist and picking her up. She squeals (yes ,fucking squeals) and she realizes she’s actually flirting with him, her arch enemy. Except they aren’t enemies at all, not really.

He’s the guy whose tortured her for years. Who she can’t hold a conversation with for five seconds without wanting to throttle him. The guy who walks around with an inflated ego and flirts with anyone who has legs.

But he’s also the guy who patrols frat parties to make sure no one is taken advantage of. The guy who mother hens anyone he cares about and more. The guy who stayed up with her all night to help her ace her History final. The guy who held her in his arms after a nasty emotional break down at the beginning of the year caused by working herself to death and losing her father over the summer. He’s the bane of her existence yet her anchor at the same time.

When she turns around to face him, the chaos around them stops for a moment and suddenly it’s just the two of them. His arms are around her and her hands are splayed across his chest. His eyes flick down to her lips and she follows suit. No one moves and when she glances back up, he raises an eyebrow as if to ask for permission and she tilts her head, daring him to do it. They both want to make the move but they’re both stubborn as hell.

“Fuck it,” he finally says and his lips are on hers in a burning kiss. She reacts immediately, her arms sliding around his neck and fingers tangling in his hair. It’s passionate. Amazing. Hot.

They don’t stop until the need for air becomes urgent and they’re both breathing heavily as he leans his forehead on her own.

“Damn,” he breathes out and she laughs softly, running her thumb along his jawline. 

Damn indeed.


End file.
